Nocturne with Poor Decisions
That time, say, you shoved me against the wall
and we pretended we liked things rough.
We don’t have to live in separate states
to call it a long-distance relationship. We don’t
write, don’t call, we get lost in the hazy outlines
of our own front porch at dusk. I drink tequila
from your lips, swim buzzingly
through the tangle and mystery of your hair,
I can’t tell which wounds are happening,
have happened, could happen.
We have differing tastes in music
though I’ll listen to anything
if it gets you to open your mouth.
Let’s say I stand, stumble. Let’s say
fall. Say follow and fire. Say we end up
in the crawlspace, brushing away spiderwebs,
our knees on stones and broken glass.
You strike the match. I touch flame to fuse.